


Febuwhump Prompt: Abandoned/Unwanted

by All_The_Monsters



Category: Star Wars, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Abuse, Attempted Murder, Child Abandonment, Child Abuse, Child Neglect, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Febuwhump, Not Beta Read, Thanks, This Is Why We Can't Have Nice Things, We Die Like Men, but please do tell me if there are any inconsistencies so i can fix them, poor armitage, someone save this boy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-20
Updated: 2020-02-20
Packaged: 2021-02-27 20:35:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,774
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22811752
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/All_The_Monsters/pseuds/All_The_Monsters
Summary: What is Brendol just decided that Armitage was more trouble than he was worth and seeks to rid himself of the unwanted child. Note: Armitage is around 9-12 in this.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 23





	Febuwhump Prompt: Abandoned/Unwanted

**Author's Note:**

> Please read the warnings and the tags, this is one of the darker fics I've written. No rainbow and sunshine here folks.

Armitage's face was practically pressed to the transparisteel as he watched the tiny pin-pricks of light zoom past. Watching the millions of suns fly past him as the massive ship traveled through hyperspace was hypnotizing and relaxed the boy as much as possible. His mind lay dormant and calm, but his muscles were still tense with anticipation for a blow that could come at any moment despite the fact he was all alone in the room. Reaching up almost tentatively, he made to place his hand against the transparisteel in front of him, but stilled before his fingers reached the cool glass. The commandant -it was always commandant, and never father- would be mad if he knew he'd been "day-dreaming" again, as he called it. Returning back to the table the data-pad lay abandoned on, Armitage supposed it was a type of day dreaming. Not the kind full of fanciful ideas and impossible colours, but like when you went to sleep at night and woke up in the morning without having recalled dreaming anything at all, just what seems at the time to be merely seconds of warm, comforting darkness.

Looking over the words written across the device, Armitage couldn't seem to make any of them make any sense. They were words separately, but together their meaning was lost to him. Without meaning to, he found himself gazing back out the large window again, lost in the nothingness that was space. It wasn't until there was the distant sound of voices outside that Armitage was pulled from his thoughts and looked back towards the door and down to his academy work that was still unfinished in horror. Quickly, he shuffled the data-pad and flimsy together into a bunch and attempted to shove it all into his shoulder bag before the commandant entered. Perhaps tonight he could stay up late to finish it while the commandant slept. 

The air immediately changed when the door slid open and the commandant entered the living area. He was angry, Armitage observed from the older man's posture, more so than usual. And annoyed. Everything in him was screaming at him to run and hide, but that would only make it worse. He'd learned that lesson the hard way. 

Swallowing thickly, the boy spoke despite his tightening throat, "Commandant." Armitage hated how small and pathetic his voice sounded. _Fitting,_ he thought darkly, _that his voice should match him. Scrawny, thin, useless, and most of all, pathetic._ The words the commandant had drilled into him echoed around his head, creating a sinking feeling in his stomach. 

"What do you want?" the commandant spat. 

"N-nothing, sir." Armitage stepped backed, immediately regretting the cowardly action. Unable to move his gaze up and look the commandant in the eyes, Armitage watched as his shiny boots stomped towards him. 

"What did I say about mumbling, boy?" Normally the commandant would have ignored the slight with a huff, but today was different, Armitage sensed it as he was grabbed roughly by the tunic of his academy uniform. 

"I'm sorry, sir." Armitage fought back the fear threatening to rise to the surface. Showing fear only made everything worse. This was all for his own good, Armitage told himself. 

"You will be." The commandant spoke lowly, and no words had ever made Armitage more afraid. Now having no choice but to look into those cerulean blues eyes that matched his own, and the boy knew with dawning realization that he'd be lucky to survive what would undoubtedly come next. 

Without warning, the commandant released him, sending Armitage to the ground. Twisting from his prone position on the ground, Armitage propped himself up on his elbow just in time as the commandant's boot met the soft place between his rib cage and hip bone, pushing him a few feet away. Gritting his teeth and squeezing his eyes shut, Armitage couldn't stop the whimper that escaped him. The footsteps were drawing near again, and vaguely, Armitage wondered in running wouldn't be so bad. Looking up at the imposing figure was a mistake as a fist connected violently with his nose, the ring the commandant wore breaking Armitage's lip open. Blood was already blooming under his skin from the busted blood vessels. Coughing on the metallic taste quickly filling his mouth, Armitage had no time to prepare for the next blow. Or the next. Nor the ones after that. The punches and the kicks kept coming and coming without an end in sight. This wasn't new for the miserable boy, but there was a difference to the severity to which the punches and kicks landed. The commandant wasn't merely trying to hurt or cause him pain to punish him for his existence, Armitage realized, he was trying to kill him. And at this rate, he's surely succeed. 

The darkness was threatening to swallow Armitage whole when the commandant's hands wrapped around his thin throat. Suddenly the fear of death became very real, and Armitage couldn't stop the tears that welled up as he struggled to breath around the strong fingers crushing his wind pipe. 

"Please," he tried to say, but the word came out more a gasp for air. "Please." But the commandant did not stop, if anything he only pressed harder, sneering all the while. "Father-" Armitage tried one last time, his hands failing him as he clawed at the ones around his throat, his vision swimming and begining to fade. Then it all stopped. Suddenly he could breathe again and Armitage struggled to crawl away, greedily gasping for as much breath as his starved lungs would take in, sputtering and coughing on the blood from his no doubt broken nose. 

Without a word, the commandant stood and walked away, not once glancing at his son, and Armitage heard him lock himself in his study. Unable to hold himself up any longer, Armitage collapsed to the cold durasteel floor, allowing it to sooth his swollen face and cried, unable to hold it back any longer. To be unwanted and unloved was one thing, to be hated was another. Everything hurt. After a while the floor became heated where he'd laid his face, no longer soothing his wounds, but begining to cause them to ache. Gathering his strength, Armitage manged to half crawl half stumble to his own sleeping quarters, dropping his shoulder bag somewhere on the ground on the way to his bed. Simply unable to stay awake any longer, he quickly fell asleep. 

The morning came much faster than Armitage would've like, the pain coming to him all at once as he became aware of the waking world around him. Groaning softly, the boy pushed his bruised face into the smothering warmth of the pillow beneath him, stalling for as long as he could before he had to make a mandatory appearance for breakfast. The commandant might beat him, but bacta and creams couldn't hide malnourishment and the commandant did have an image to maintain. Finally forcing himself up, Armitage rubbed his wrist at the slight twinge of pain, the commandant must've sprained it the night before. 

He was so numb the cold of the floor barely registered when his bare feet met the durasteal as he walked over to the fresher to peer at him reflection in the mirror above the sink to get a better idea of his injuries. His nose wasn't broken as he'd thought the night before, Armitage noted as he wiped away the blood and was relieved to see it was still strait. The bruising around his eyes had already turned a garish black and blue, along with spots dotting his chin and cheeks. His split lip stretched and stung whenever he made to move his mouth and there was a cut on his cheek that was no doubt from the commandant's pring as well. 

Opening the cabinet, Armitage reached in and pulled the all too familiar tube of bacta gel and made a note to apply some of the tinted creams to hide what bruises hadn't healed over breakfast and make up a story to go with the cuts, though he doubted anyone would ask. The bacta had a cooling and numbing effect as he applied it to the dark circles around his eyes, though it did sting a bit when applied to his open injuries. Finally the part he's dreaded most had come and tentatively Armitage unbuttoned the high collar of his academy uniform and tilted his chin up to inspect his throat. His throat was a mixture of yellow, brown, purple, blue, and black hues; the later colours showing exactly where the commandant's fingers had bore into his neck just hours before. _He tried to kill me,_ the thought rung out uninvited in Armitage's mind, and nothing the commandant had done before had hurt and scorned him as much as that. Unwilling to dwell on it any longer, Armitage spread the bacta over his neck and left the refresher in search of a fresh uniform, he'd been too exhausted from the night before to properly change for bed and had slept in his clothes from the day before. 

Once he'd changed into a neatly pressed and clean grey uniform and tossed the one from the day before into the laundry chute, Armitage tentatively left his room to creep down the short hall to peer around the corner into the main living area. The commandant hated when he did this, always accusing the boy of sneaking and being untrustworthy, but Armitage couldn't help the habit, it was in moments such as this that his fear grew too strong and controlled him. The commandant was sat down at the table nursing a steaming cup of caf and scowling at a data-pad in front of him. Armitage's neck ached at the sight in an almost warning as he watched the man owlishly with wide, fearful, eyes. 

"Are you going to eat or not?" Though it was a question, the commandant's voice did not lilt at the end, making it sound like a command. It was only then that Armitage noticed the bowl and glass sitting where he normally sat. The commandant did not speak again or look up until Armitage had sat down and picked up his spoon to stir the porridge to eliminate any hot spots. "Did you sleep well?" The commandant's voice was harsh as always, but there was something different about it this morning, something almost...gentle. 

"Yes Commandant." Armitage answered obediently before shoving a spoonful of porridge into his mouth, wincing as the muscles in his neck contracted to swallow. If the commandant noticed, he didn't say anything. "Thank you sir," Armitage added quickly, knowing the commandant was under no obligation for niceties. The commandant only hummed in response. Armitage ate the best he could despite the pain, he'd forgotten about his chest and stomach when applying the bacta this morning, and his back was a lost cause; his shoulder were too sore to even think about contorting in that way and it wasn't as if there was anyone to ask for help. The only bruises the commandant cared about were the ones on his face. 

"I want you presentable in the next hour, we're going to Coruscant." The commandant finally placed down the data pad and stood up. 

"You're taking me?" Armitage asked incredulously. The commandant never took him anywhere off ship, and deep down he hoped this wasn't some dream as excited bubbled up in him despite himself. He'd never been on any other planet besides Arkainis. 

"Why shouldn't I? You're my son, aren't you?" The commandant spoke over his shoulder as he left and Armitage froze mid-movement. The commandant never fully acknowledged him as his son before, only an unwanted burden. Left alone in the room where he'd been beaten nearly to death not even a full cycle ago, hope bloomed in the boy's chest. To excited now to eat any more, Armitage left the dishes for the cleaning droids to get. He had to force himself to walk calmly back to his room and run. 

Wanting to make his father proud, Armitage stepped back up to the mirror in the fresher and carefully combed his fine red hair into a presentable assortment and gelled it into place. Most of the bruises on his face had healed, there were still dark circles ringing his eyes, though he supposed it could pass as a lack of sleep. But still. Carefully he took the tinted cream and began to place it on the worse areas before lifting his chin again. Only the dark circles where his father's finger tips had been remained, quickly hidden by the pale cream. Satisfied that he looked acceptable, Armitage pulled the wrinkles from his uniform and bounced on his heels a few times before leaving in search of his boots. 

An hour later, Armitage sat in a seat on the transport shuttle, an uneasy feeling began to settle in his stomach. The commandant hadn't acknowledged him since that morning, and the night before was beginning to come back to him. Just the night before his father had been trying to murder him and now he had acknowledged him as his son and was taking him off ship. Armitage watched the commandant carefully as they neared the planet, something in the back of his mind warning him it was all some cruel trick. However, as they neared the space port in the city the thoughts were swept away at the sight of the tall buildings and the speeders zooming by. 

Stepping out onto the planet was something else entirely. Arkainis had been cold, windy, and wet, but Coruscant was mild and the slight breeze felt good, almost akin to standing below a vent, but so much better. There were fumes in the air from the speeders and ships entering and leaving the atmosphere. Everything was so new, Armitgae had only seen pictures of cities and planets and he found himself unable to take it all in, looking around and looking so much like a child. A hand clasping his shoulder pulled Armitage's attention away from everything around him and he looked up to see the commandant looking down at his. Armitage couldn't help himself and felt the corners of his mouth pull up. Maybe things were changing after last night, maybe almost killing him had changed something in the commandant, Armitage dared hope. Maybe, if things kept getting better, he could call him father. The commandant made no expression and simply looked away from Armitage before steering him off in another direction. 

"Come, we don't want to be late." 

Armitage was half tempted to ask what they didn't want to be late to, but he knew better. Twenty minutes later, he found himself seated on a padded bench outside a meeting room, waiting for his father to finish up. It would be another hour and a half before the commandant reamerged along with chancellors and other high ranking members, but Armitage didn't mind. He was too busy staring out the large transparasteal window at the new world outside to care. Everything seemed to move so fast on this planet, people coming and going constantly. 

"Armitage." At the sound of his name being called, he turned to see the commandant standing before him expectantly, his hands clasped behind his back. Silently, Armitage climbed down from the bench and walked over to stand before him, fidgeting with his own hands behind his back. "Come with me, I want to show you something." Obediently, Armitage followed as the commandant turned to the lifts to leave the building. 

"Where are we going?" Armitage couldn't help but ask. 

"It's a surprise." The commandant didn't shift his gaze from the sliding doors of the lift when spoke, sounding almost bored, but that didn't bother Armitage. He'd never had a surprise before, and his excitement grew as the left the building, though he schooled his expression not to show it. He wanted to make his father proud. 

Together they wove their way through the streets and back allies of the city, so much so that Armitage was almost worried they'd become lost, but the commandant seemed to know where he was going so he never said anything. After what felt like forever they were standing in a dark alleyway looking out onto the least crowded street they'd come across so far. 

Turning to Armitage, the commandant spoke, guiding him to sit on an upturned crate. "I want you to stay here, don't move until I come and get you." 

"Yes sir." Armitage sat atop the crate, his eyes betraying the excitement he felt. 

"I'll be right back. Don't move." With that, the commandant walked out into the street and turned a corner, leaving Armitage's line of sight, not once looking back. 

Armitage couldn't help but squirm with excitement. Any moment now, his father would return with the surprise. He bit his lip and wondered at what it could be, though he immediately regretted the action when the cut in his lip stung. After a while of sitting with his legs crossed they became numb, so he shifted slightly to relieve the pressure on them before remembering what the commandant had said about not moving and quickly re-folded the limbs, watching eagerly for his father to reappear around the corner. It must've been nearly a half hour at this point, but Armitage was patient. He could wait, and wait he would, until an hour had passed. Then two. Then three. By now a terrible sinking feeling had settled in his stomach and tightened around his chest. Any minute now, any minute his father would walk around that corner. But he never did. It was nearly night now, and the planet was quickly becoming cold. Tears prickled in the corners of Armitage's eyes as he wrapped his arms around himself and drew up his knees to try and ward of the chill of the night. Then it dawned on him. The commandant wasn't coming back. He never was. As the first tears fell from his eyes, it all fell into place. His father wanted him gone. When he couldn't kill him the night before he'd found the next best option. Now he was rid of the bastard child he'd never wanted in the first place, and all he had to say was Armatage had been taken or gone missing on some planet. The Order didn't care about one missing child, they wouldn't waste resources on him. He was alone now. 

Unable to hold himself together any longer, Armitage fell appart and began to sob into his knees. He must've been someone truly terrible in a past life to deserve this. He realized how grateful he should've been before, he'd been fed, had a bed to sleep in, and walls and a roof around him. Now he had nothing but the clothes on his back. A noise from behind him startled him and he turned to see someone crouching in the shadows watching him, and in the dim light Armitage could see the nasty smile cut across the stranger's face. Without thinking, Armitage ran. He'd heard of children being taken forced into servitude and slavery, and sometimes worse. That was the last thing he wanted, so he ran. The fumes in the air burned his lungs and stung his eyes as he ran, causing him to cough and struggle to catch his breath. Just this morning in the light the city had seemed like an utopia, with beautiful buildings reaching for the sky, but now in the dark there was nothing utopic about it. Every corner seemed dark and everyone who looked at him seemed to have undoubtedly bad intentions. Armitage only stopped when his body forced him to, falling onto his hands and knees on the hard duracrete ground, coughing and vomiting up what he'd eaten during the day before. Sobbing and struggling for air, Armitage wished his father had seceded in killing him the night before. 

Suddenly there were hands on his back, and a woman was speaking softly to him, instructing him to breathe. 

"In and out. Common, there you go." Her voice was gentle and held no ill will, but still, Armitage shied away from the hands. When he got a look at her through his tears he could see a woman kneeling beside him, looking concerned. She had wild black hair escaping from it's confined ponytail and soft eyes as she reached for the boy once more. "Where are you parents?" The question shouldn't have hurt as much as it did, but it stabbed somewhere deep within Armitage and he began to cry anew, this time soft, whimpering sobs. 

Before he could stop himself he spoke, "He left me. He's not coming back." 

"Who's not coming back?" The kind woman was attempting to hold him again, and despite himself, Armitage let her. 

"My father." He hiccuped. 

"Oh, honey, he'll always be with you-" 

"No! You don't understand!" Armitage cut her off before sobbing harder. "He said he wanted to show me something. He told me to sit and stay where I was, and then he left. And he's not coming back!" As he explained, the woman was half listening as something under the boy's collar caught her attention. Moving aside his red hair and pushing his uniform collar down, she took in the still purple fingerprints dotting his neck. 

"Who did this?" She asked although she already suspected who. When Armitage didn't answer and instead grew quiet she repeated the question again, this time adding, "You don't have to protect him." Armitage looked up at her with miserable eyes that told her everything she needed to know about the scorned child. "Was it your father?" Armitage looked away and nodded, the movement so small the woman might've missed it if she hadn't been paying attention. Without warning, Armitage suddenly found himself pulled into the woman's embrace and gladly accepted the gesture, clinging to her. 

"You can come with me. We'll find you some place to stay. Or you can stay with us." She seemed to be talking to herself more than to the child in her arms. Armitage didn't care, he couldn't recall the feeling of his own mother holding him in such a way, so he clung to this woman instead, silently begging for love and protection. "I have a son, he's around your age. My husband and I will take care of you. What's your name?" 

"Armitage." He whispered into her neck, and he had no clue how she'd hear it, but she did. 

"My name's Shara Bey."

**Author's Note:**

> Follow my General Hux apprieciation blog on tumblr @ general-ly-exhausted.tumblr.com . Please leave any questions, comments, concerns, and or interpretive dances in the comment section below!


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